Honesty
by CarpeNoctem
Summary: People have many sides that are rarely seen. An SSHG story. Chapter 4 now up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I finally caved, I'm trying a SS/HG piece. Due to my awful self-motivation skills reviews are the only way I'm going to update. Please, please tell me what you think. Flames will only feed the my pyromania. Thanks and REVIEW.

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

He watched her as she reached up and took a piece of hair between her fingers, twisting it several times before letting it fall back down into more of a tangle then it was before. Her front teeth, smaller then they were before, he remembered before he could stop himself, worried her bottom lip and she hastily flipped the pages in her Potions book back and forth as her keen mind dissected and compared facts and figures. There weren't many like her, he thought to himself, weren't many who pursued knowledge for the pure joy of it instead of for the purpose of manipulating it to their own ends.

Snape leaned back slightly in his chair, flicking his eyes over the class before once more settling them upon Hermione. She was adding her ingredients to her cauldron now, brow furrowed as she measured out every substance with precision. On her left Neville Longbottom also added items to his container, but with a hand that was shaking as nervously as Hermione's hand was smooth with assurance. Snape's lips twitched with an expression that, on anyone else, would have been a smile. Instead, a sneer slid across his harsh features and he rose gracefully from his seat, quickly gliding over the cold dungeon floor to stand behind Neville.

"Mister Longbottom," his voice drew out the syllables in a velvet hiss, "Just what, I wonder, would ever possess you to sign up for my NEWT class? Surely you must have learned by now that some things should be left to your intellectual superiors."

Neville trembled slightly. "I...um…I…"

Snape rolled his eyes in an over exaggerated expression of disgust. "Well spit it out boy, we haven't got all day!"

Neville was rescued from a fate worse then death by the bell, which rang like a heavenly choir throughout the halls.

"Potions on my desk, stations clean, three foot essay on my desk tomorrow on why potion making requires talent as well as dumb luck." The students raced from the room as if they were pursued by the hounds of hell. Harry and Ron, fearing Snape's wrath, cleaned their stations a bit more carefully then most and so were still in the room to see Hermione approach Snape's desk.

"Has she completely lost it?" Ron exclaimed in a whisper. He started back but Harry grabbed his arm.

"I'm not going back in there. Besides, she's the darling of the staff. Snape might go easy on her." Ron shrugged, nodded, and followed Harry out.

Hermione stood at the foot of Snape's desk, shaking hair out of her eyes and waiting. He was grading papers, drawing red ink across the pages line so many whip marks. She shifted from foot to foot. He took no notice. She cleared her throat. He drew an especially dramatic line on the parchment. She cleared her throat louder. Snape threw down his quill with an irritated growl.

"Can I help you, Miss Granger?" he asked with mock courtesy.

"Hopefully." She stood straight and tall, meeting his eyes with what he realized with surprise was defiance. "The potion we made today was not NEWT level, Sir. We probably did it fifth year and I was wondering why you seem to be giving us easy work."

Snape's eyebrow rose even higher then before. "Though I am unsure why I should explain my methods to you, I did a review in order to keep the ignoramuses among you from completely destroying my classroom."

"I thought this was a higher level course, Professor. Shouldn't those who can't handle the work be asked to leave?"

"Whatever happened to being the champion of the dense, Longbottom's knight in shining armor?"

Hermione tossed her head. "He's holding back the class. I won't suffer just because of his empty Auror dreams."

Snape let out a short bark of laughter, causing Hermione to practically jump in shock. "Clearly, being in the walls of Gryffindor has not at all softened your heart."

"Its not fair!" Hermione burst out. "I study and I work hard and yet no one ever goes out of their way to help me. People like Neville and Harry, who don't put in nearly enough effort as they could, are catered to without a second thought while I have to struggle through on my own. I won't have them ruining the only thing I'm good at!"

"And what might that be?" Outwardly Snape was unfazed by her speech, but inside his stomach roiled and his heart twisted. She was more like him then he ever dreamed. If she already had this resentment within her, was there the potential for more? For hatred, even?

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "Learning. Learning is what's going to put me ahead in this world and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I learn as much as possible."

"Perhaps," Snape drew out the word, "I might be able to help you."

Hermione tilted her head slightly to the side in question. "How?"

"I could tutor you privately, in advanced potions or whatever else you may wish."

"Why would you do this?" Her eyes widened. "I'm muggleborn, I'm Harry's friend, I…"

"You have potential, Miss Granger. It would be a crime to waste it. And besides, one day you might be able to return the favor." He quirked up an eyebrow and Hermione suddenly had a flash of a scene in the distant future; a battlefield ravaged by death and blood and in the middle of it all, a man with no true allies fighting with his life for what was pure and good. She nodded slowly.

"Beginning tomorrow evening then?"

Hermione nodded once more, turned, and exited the room. It was if the light exited with her, Snape thought to himself. He settled back into his chair and into the dark of his dungeon.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't really want them. Can you imagine the feeding bills?

A/N: Thank you all so much for reviewing! I can't tell you how happy it made me to see the emails in my inbox. A special thanks to Blondemomo, so happy you like my story! And now on to the next chapter.

The clock on her nightstand began to shriek and Hermione twisted around on her bed and brought her fist down upon it. It ceased clamoring instantly and crept, whimpering, into a corner. Hermione rolled her eyes and shut the book she had been reading.

            "Why am I doing this?" she muttered to herself as she slipped on her soft hide shoes that resembled moccasins. "Why am I doing this?" she mumbled as she walked briskly and slightly out of breath through the halls. And finally, "Why am I doing this?" she moaned as she shivered her way through the dungeons to Snape's classroom.

            "Enter." A sharp voice called before Hermione could even raise her hand to the door. She pushed it carefully open, allowing the room to be revealed to her piece by piece. When the door finally hit the back wall, she slowly walked over the threshold and paused.

            "Well no wonder no one ever helps you," Snape remarked from his position behind his imposing mahogany desk, "All you do is stand in doorways and gawk."

            Hermione stepped into the room and let the door slam shut with a bang behind her. Ignoring Snape's mocking expression, she sat in the seat across from him. "Good evening, Sir."

            "I am not going to go easy on you, Granger." Snape waved away her greeting. "You want to learn, so you will. But it will not be a simple task."

            "I never thought it would be." Hermione shot back.

            Snape narrowed his eyes suddenly. "This is not about Potions." He stated simply.

            Hermione took a breath. "No, its not." At another impatient gesture, she continued. "I'm expected to be the good one; the calm, efficient girl who always does what she's told and excels in everything. But this," she motioned to the room and all that was beyond it, "All of this, Professor, it isn't real! Outside there is a war and people die everyday, yet we are in classes learning how to turn chairs into peacocks."

            "Perhaps you should bring this up with Professor McGonagall." Snape interjected.

            "But it's not just Transfiguration, its everything else as well. It's Harry and it's Ron, and it's you and Dumbledore as well."

            "What do you mean?"

            "He sends you out to spy, to put your life on the line every day. And yet all he ever offers you is lemon drops and twinkling smiles. I'm tired of half-truths and painted on grins. I want something real and true, something that would explain why I continue doing this. I can find that through knowledge, but not the knowledge that remedial potions can bring me."

            Snape stared at her for a moment longer before nodding once and rising from his chair. "Follow me." He swept over to the wooden door in the corner of the classroom. Raising his wand, he muttered a password that Hermione wasn't quick enough to catch. The door swung open on oiled hinges and she followed him inside.

            Hermione caught her breath as she saw the rows of tall bookshelves lining the walls, all filled to the bursting. In the center of the room, a table was set up with two cauldrons side by side.

            "This is my private laboratory." Snape flicked his wrist and the torches on the walls burst into flame. "You may only work in here when I am also present. The books on the lower shelves are available to you; you may not touch the ones above the fifth level."

            "Why not? I thought you were going to let me study anything I wanted."

            Snape turned to face her. "You will obey my rules or you will go back to studying inferior books in your dormitory. Do I make myself clear?"

            "Yes, Professor." Hermione muttered.

            "You may get to work."

            The rest of the evening passed quickly. Hermione had found a potion to make the drinker incessantly tired in one of Snape's volumes and set about making it. While she chopped ingredients, the hacking of the knife echoing unpleasantly in the silence, she observed her professor as he bent over his own cauldron. His limp black hair fell in front of his eyes and he often brushed it away, only to have it obstruct his view once more a few seconds later. He moved like a panther; his only chopping knife made almost no sound and he tossed items into his container with what would have been carelessness from anyone else. As Hermione watched, Snape added a final ingredient to his mixture. The smoke from the cauldron frothed up around him until he was wreathed in navy blue smoke. His hair was blown slightly back from the force of the reaction and to Hermione he resembled one of the alchemists of old, trying to recapture lost dreams through their mysterious formulas.

            "Are you quiet finished scrutinizing me?" His voice sounded slightly bemused but Hermione jumped anyway.

            "I was just…What are you making?" she grasped onto another item of conversation. Snape stiffened slightly.

            "It is none of your concern."

            Hermione's eyes widened. "Its for Him, isn't it?" Snape was silent. "Is it a poison?"

            Snape locked eyes with her. "Miss Granger," his voice was like a sheathed blade, "You will mind your own business or you will not be able to return here."

            "But I…"

            "That's it!" Snape exploded. "Get out! I did not allow you here so that you could question me. Out!"

            Hermione spun around and raced out of the laboratory door, through the classrooms door, and didn't stop until she reached the Fat Lady. She paused for a moment, hands on her knees and breathing hard. "Ron was right," she panted, "I really do need to get some more activity." She entered her room and flung herself across her bed.

            "Git," she muttered. "Can't stand a little curiosity, no wonder he's alone." She sighed. "Well I guess that's the end of that. I had hoped he would be a little…Wait a minute!" She sat straight up and grinned. "It's a test! Of course, he loves surprise tests. He said he wouldn't make it simple and so he didn't. Opposition is part of gaining knowledge; he's playing on my fear of it." Hermione shook her head. "I'll show you, Professor. You can't get rid of me that easily."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know, I know: it's been a while. In my defense, my outline for this story is being filled in and I have two chapters for later in the story already written. I don't exactly work in a linear fashion. Besides, I'm getting ready for school and working on my own novel. Excuses aside, enjoy this chapter. I'll try to update as often as I can but I'm entering the IB program so I'll be lucky to have time to sleep, let alone write.

Hermione's head pounded when she woke up the next morning. A hundred jackhammers reverberated through her skull and pulsed along her eyelids, which could barely open because of the combination of pain and fatigue. She remained bleary eyed through breakfast, almost falling into her eggs, and dozed during classes.

"I must have ingested some of that potion I made last night," she yawned during Transfiguration. Her eyes suddenly snapped open, all weariness forgotten. "Potions! I have to see Snape next."

Her resolve from the night before was somewhat faded, leaving behind it a sense of dread at the thought of confronting Snape once more. She unconsciously began twisting a piece of parchment in her hands, creating a crinkling noise that soon had McGonagall's left eye twitching.

"If you wouldn't mind, Miss Granger?" The Professor gestured towards her hands and Hermione hastily set down the paper, blushing as she did so.

"Sorry, Professor."

The rest of the day plodded along; the universe, with its eternal sense of humor, had placed Potions during one of the later periods of the day and Hermione had quite a lot of time to think about the possible disasters that could happen. But time did pass and finally the dreaded class arrived.

Hermione immediately breathed a sigh of relief; Snape acted like he didn't even know she was there. It was only near the end of the period that he finally directed his attention towards her.

"Miss Granger, do you happen to go by the alias of Neville Longbottom on occasions?"

"N…no, Sir," Hermione answered with no small measure of confusion.

"Then why do you persist to add ingredients to his cauldron instead of your own?" Snape's brow quirked up at her.

"But I…"

"Detention, Miss Granger. My office, seven o'clock. Unless you would rather complete another assignment?"

Ah, he was offering her a way out, a way to quit and pretend previous events never happened. Not good enough, Snape, Hermione thought.

She lifted her head higher. "No, Sir, detention is fine."

At seven that night Hermione made her way down to the dungeons once more. She tensed as the large wooden door creaked as she opened it but Snape wasn't in his office. The door to his lab was opened a crack and she peered in, but he didn't seem to be there either. Hermione let out a gusty sigh. All of those lectures on responsibility and he was the one who was late. She settled herself into the large chair behind his desk, which turned out to be more comfortable than it initially looked. After five minutes, she finally gave in to boredom and leaned over to read the papers sitting on his desk.

"And exactly what do you think you're doing?" a smoother voice glided to her ears and Hermione jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Nothing! That is, I was waiting for you and I…uh…"

"Decided to snoop through my personal affairs." Snape was leaning against the doorway, a small basket clutched in one hand. Over the edge leaves and small vines were apparent.

"You were late," Hermione finally burst out in defense.

Snape hefted the basket to his other hand. "There are some ingredients that may only be harvested at certain quarters of the moon for effectiveness. Surely you knew that," he finished deprecatingly. Hermione nodded silently and followed him through the open doorway to his laboratory.

Snape set the basket down carefully and turned to look at her. He stared at her for a long moment without speaking, until Hermione became restless and shifted from foot to foot.

"Is this helping at all?" he finally asked.

Hermione shrugged, respect forgotten. "A bit," she said slowly. "I slept better last night then I have for a while, I didn't worry so much about wasted time." She looked up at him and felt a strange feeling developing in her stomach; she had never spoken to anyone about this and a feeling of closeness to her sharp professor began to develop.

"I shall have to look into marketing myself as a sleep aid," Snape sneered at her. "Heaven forbid a few Gryffindors can't get their eleven hours of daily rest."

The feeling in Hermione's stomach twisted into a knot and the bubble of comfort popped.

"If there is nothing else, Sir," she semi-spat out the title, "I would like to get to work." Snape nodded and the night progressed the same as before, only this time Hermione often felt the weight of eyes upon her, only to look up and see Snape busy at his own station.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yeah, I know the last chapter was too short and kinda bad. I present to you the result of writer's block: I just couldn't get that chapter written. I figured it would be better to plow through it to get to the more interesting stuff rather then letting it sit and get dusty. Besides, once this story is finished I'll probably go back and do some overall editing. As an apology for last chapter, I offer you the longest chapter yet in this story. I hope its better.

Severus Snape, Professor and Potions Master extraordinaire, rested his head in his hands and sighed. September had slowly leaked into October, the days passing until Samhain was swiftly approaching. Work with Miss Granger had also progressed, though her manner had been stiffer since that night in September. Snape sighed again, thinking about it. He had been furious at her for prying but what could he do? To refuse her would only result in her seeking knowledge in places she had no business being. And then she had offered part of herself up, looked at him with more softness then he had seen for a long while and he, annoyed at his own resulting fear, returned her trust with a sarcastic remark.

"Brilliant, Severus my boy, just alienate the girl," Snape muttered to himself. There were walls behind Miss Granger's eyes now every time she entered his domain, walls that he never thought to see in anyone but himself. As if reminding him why the walls existed in the first place, Snape's Dark Mark gave a twinge. He flinched and lightly rested a hand over the cloth-covered Mark.

There would not be a meeting on Samhain; there never was. The Dark Lord hated to be predictable. No, the gathering would come later, after Snape finally relaxed and let himself believe there would be no horrors to face that month. That was how it always went, that was why he tried to never allow himself to hope. Hope only resulted in a crushing disappointment that drew him even further from the light.

Snape's musing was interrupted by the burst of light from his Floo connection. Albus Dumbledore's wizened head appeared in his fireplace. "Severus, are you busy?"

Snape turned in his chair so he could fully see the Headmaster. "No, Sir. What is it?"

"There are some details about the Halloween festivities I would like to go over with you. How would you feel about wearing orange robes to the feast?" The fact that Dumbledore's eyes could still twinkle through fire disturbed Snape more than his question did. He still glared in reply.

"Ah, a no then? Very well, I suppose you can still play the part of the castle vampire."

Snape smirked in reply. "And I presume you will play the part of the barmy enchanter?" he remarked lightly. The Headmaster and he had been settled for a long time in this type of repartee. For Snape, it was sarcasm with a net.

"Of course." Another twinkle, more of a glimmer this time. "Come down to the Great Hall and we can discuss decorations. Heaven knows I don't want you blasting them to pieces after the feast like you did last year."

The days before Halloween passed swiftly for Hermione and soon she was agonizing over what to wear to the feast.

"No Ginny, that's too bright. Too low cut. How can you even suggest that?!"

Ginny Weasley laughed and shook her head, sending her red locks flying. "Oh Hermione, you should see your face. Come one, you have to dress up as something!"

"Certainly not that," Hermione sniffed and pointed to the all most see-through costume that lay on the bed. "I do have some dignity, you know."

"All right, all right." Ginny sighed. "How about this?" She raised her wand and Hermione backed off slightly with her hands in front of her.

"Nothing weird or skimpy or ugly or…"

Ginny ignored her and flicked her wand several times. Hermione felt her hair twist above her head and her everyday robes melted into something else. "Ok, go check it out." Ginny beamed.

Hermione moved to the mirror and her jaw dropped at what she saw. Standing in front of her was a girl whose honey-colored hair was done up in a high twist, with little ringlets cascading down. Light makeup accented her features, and even Hermione found the shade of red lipstick acceptable. Her dress was a deep green with silver designs on it; crescent moons and horses mingled with mermaids and seashells. The neckline was low but not indecent and the sleeves cut off at the elbow to end in fine, sheer netting.

"Oh Ginny, its beautiful. But what am I supposed to be?"

Ginny grinned. "Why, a princess of course." With another flick of her wand, a thin silver tiara appeared on Hermione's head.

"Wear did you learn all of this?" Hermione lightly touched the piece on her head in awe.

"Books." A surprised look from Hermione. "Oh come on, you're not the only one who knows how to study to get what she wants. Now lets go! The boys are waiting."

Harry and Ron waited at the entrance to the Common Room and Hermione giggled when she saw them. Harry was a pirate, a patch covering one eye and his scar contributing to his rakish look. Ron was squire, with a thin sword buckled to his belt and a pillowing top shirt. All in all, he looked more like a peasant who had robbed a smithy, Hermione decided but didn't say anything.

The boys' mouths dropped open as her and Ginny, who made a perfect Gypsy with her flaming hair, descended.

"Geez, 'Mione," Ron breathed, "You clean up better then we do!"

"Oh shut up Ron," Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother. "You act like you've never seen a couple of girls in dresses before."

They paired off; Ginny took Harry's arm while Hermione took Ron's. She noticed rather uncomfortably that he breath quickened when she touched him. Just what I need, she thought, another irrational male.

The four Gryffindors made their way to the Great Hall, led by ghosts swooshing mournfully from the ceilings and amidst them.

"What's wrong with them?" whispered Harry.

"Dumbledore probably asked them to heighten the mood or something," Hermione whispered back. "They're certainly doing a good job of it." She shivered as one ghost, a small one that she had never seen before, swooped too close.

An eerie orange glow radiated from the Great Hall, caused by the gigantic jack o'lanterns acting as lights. Other students were already in the hall; werewolves mingled with fairies and two trolls awkwardly served themselves punch. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the front table. She smiled as she observed the teachers in their various costumes, but her face fell when she caught sight of Snape. He was sitting in a shadowy corner, black robes drawn close around him and what looked like a grimace on his face. Hermione felt a pang in her chest and realized that it was pity. Recently during many of their work sessions, where she did her best to ignore him, Snape had often gripped his left forearm when he thought she wasn't looking. Hermione knew what was there, knew what it symbolized, and somehow it broke her heart to see such a proud man still trapped in the nightmares of his youth.

She shook her head slightly and got a grip on herself. The man had made his bad decisions of his own free will, and he would hate to think that she pitied him. Hermione plastered a smile on her face and went off to join the party.

Snape watched her from his dark corner. She seemed to shimmer when she moved, gliding along the floor like someone twice her age. She would grow up to be powerful, Snape knew, but how she decided to use that power would be up to him. Snape sighed for the second time that day and resigned himself to talking to her at their next meeting. Silence would only lead her down the same dangerous path it had led him.


End file.
